Acan, the God of
Wine and Intoxication, has been partying for over ten thousand years. And New
Year’s Eve, when humans around the world succumb to his naturally occurring
spike in powers, is his big night. Only this year, things are bit
different.

A plague is sweeping the immortal community, and he’s turning downright evil.
All those New Year’s bashes will turn into bloodbaths if he doesn’t stop it.
Sadly, the only known cure is finding a mate, and he is a giant, rude, beer-bellied
mess. Definitely not husband material.

But can a little gym-time and help from the pros at Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.
turn him into a divine sex-machine? Absolutely!

So watch out, ladies! The God of Wine
is lookin’ for love. And he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing.

“Jill, how
the heck are you?” Forgetty said with a bland tone, speaking to his assistant.
“We’ve got a situation.” Forgetty listened for a moment. “Nope, Belch did not
superglue himself to the Empire State Building again.” She listened and then
laughed. “Ouch. Yeah. I forgot about that rope burn accident. But his junk
appears to be intact and enjoying its usual fresh air.”

Belch
grumbled at Forgetty, knowing that she and Jill were discussing the time Cimil
dared him to walk a tightrope over the Grand Canyon. Blindfolded. A very bad
choice because when he slipped, he hadn’t been wearing any clothes and…well,
his balls took the first hit. He then fell to his death.

Luckily, however, when
a deity’s body was destroyed, they were sent back into the cosmos, where they
could return to the realm of the gods—if they weren’t currently banned—or
return to the human realm with a new body. The whole process usually took a few days since the gods
depended on sacred portals (aka cenotes, aka underground springs) in the
Mexican jungle to rebuild them one molecule at a time—very low-tech, but tried
and true. Still, ruining one’s human shell hurt like a sonofabitch.

Forgetty
continued her conversation with Jill over the phone. “Sadly, this is a serious
matter. Belch has got to find his forever someone or he’ll turn evil and be
locked up. I’m putting you in charge of keeping him sober.” A moment passed.
“Hello? Hello?” Forgetty pulled her cell from her ear.

“I think she hung up on
me.” Forgetty dialed again.

“Voicemail! Can you believe her?”

“Was going to
fire her anyway. I think I’ve gone weeks without pants.” Oh well. Belch shrugged, feeling his throat dry out and hearing
that frosty cold beer calling his name. “How about a beer to celebrate going on
the wagon?”

“No!” His
sister shook her finger. “And so help me, Belch, if you touch one drop of
alcohol, I’m going to—”

Forgetty’s
cell beeped, and she took a peek. “Cimil is calling an emergency midnight
meeting at her office.”

“Wow. We’ve
never had one of those before. Must be important.”

His sister
gave him a look.

“What?” he
asked defensively.

“You turning
into a threat to humanity is
important. And we just had an emergency meeting last week.”

We did? “You must’ve made me forget.”

“I’ve never
used my powers on you, brother.”

Really?
Because he could barely remember the last ten thousand years.

She added,
“It’s also against our laws to do so without permission.”

“Then why’s
it all a void?”

“Uhhh…because
you’ve been wasted for more millennia than I can count. But not like you’ve
missed much. A few near misses with the apocalypse. Cimil got married to
Roberto, the king of vampires, and had evil half-vampire, half-divine
quadruplets, and…a bunch of the other gods got married. Even Votan has a son.”

The God of Death and War is a father?
I definitely need to drink a keg. ASAP. “When did this happen?”

“Over the
last couple of years.”

Gods. He’d
only been sober for two minutes and already realized how much he’d missed.

He looked at
his sister and blinked hard. Whoa. That’s
what she looks like?

Mistaking his
expression for despair, Forgetty reached across the bar and squeezed his hand.
“Do not worry, brother, we’ll figure this out.”

“Oh, is it
ladies’ night? I love ladies’ night.” Just last week, he’d gone home with five
women, who pleasured him all night long. That was the nice thing about being a
deity—women found them irresistible. Their scent, their hypnotically sexy
turquoise eyes, the divine energy wafting from their bodies. In his case, his
very large cock was also a nice chick magnet. There was never a shortage of
admirers. The only downside was that a god’s energy could kill a person—fry
their brain—if the god didn’t make them wear a very special black jade to help
absorb their potent powers. He personally had a lovely collection of black jade
bracelets back home.

You mean the taco truck?

Oh yeah. Burned down my house. He’d have to go shopping tomorrow for
a new house. Maybe I’ll go big this time
and buy a bouncy castle.

“Well, I’m
ready to help welcome the women.” He rubbed his hands together.

“You’re
getting locked in the closet until I leave for the meeting,” said Forgetty.

It was only
eleven in the morning. “No. I’m not.” He defiantly took a seat on the stool
again.

She reached
out and grabbed his arm. “Acan, listen to me. The party is over. And you need
to grow up. Your reckless teen years are over.”

Grow up. Grow up? I’m the party god
and this party ain’t ever gonna end!

“Are you
going to serve me or not?” he growled.

“Not.”

“Fine.” He
rose from the barstool, his bare ass making a qwiiip! sound as it peeled off the vinyl cushion. “I’ll see you at
Cimil’s office.”

“Hey! Where
are you going?” his sister yelled as he headed for the door.

“To do what I
do best!”

“Belch!
Dammit! No more partying!”

Screw that. If he had to find a mate, he wanted
one who knew how to throw down and worshiped at the altar of wine like he did,
not some teetotaler. Going to find myself
a real woman. Fit for a god.

MIMI JEAN
PAMFILOFF is a USA Today and New York
Times bestselling romance author. Although she obtained her MBA and
worked for more than fifteen years in the corporate world, she believes that
it’s never too late to come out of the romance closet and follow your dream.
Mimi lives with her Latin Lover hubby, two pirates-in-training (their boys),
and the rat terrier duo, Snowflake and Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make
you laugh when you need it most and continues to pray daily that leather pants
will make a big comeback for men.